


Dark as Gold

by thoughtslockedupincages



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Robin Hood, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-17 12:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9323831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtslockedupincages/pseuds/thoughtslockedupincages
Summary: Something was coming, and whatever it was, Chat would be expected to fight. He would be expected to protect Nottingham, like Ladybug did. But he wasn't Ladybug."What is it?" Chat didn't turn around, simply pausing in the doorway. "I'm not sure." The Friar's voice was unreadable. "But whatever it is, I believe it will bring Nottingham to its knees." [Robin Hood AU]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Here it is! I am so, _so_ excited to be restarting this Robin Hood AU. As you'll see, I'm adding new characters and starting off Ladybug and Chat Noir in _very_ different positions than I had originally intended, so I'm really looking forward to seeing how this new dynamic works out. This fic will be updated **every Saturday** , so keep an eye out for that! Also, as a final note, the Friar in this story is meant to be Master Fu. However, because that name would be very unusual in this particular time period, I changed the name to Friar Peter in honor of Master Fu's voice actor, Paul St. Peter. Any constructive criticism you guys can give me on the story would be very much appreciated, and I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

It was well past midnight when Chat finally heard the clamping of horses' hooves against the old dirt road. It was his favorite kind of night, clouds blotting out the stars so that the entire world hung in a darkness that seemed almost tangible. Some nobles thought it safest to travel along Nottingham's road at night, hoping that it would offer them cover from bandits and they could pass the village undetected.

They were fools. Darkness was where he thrived.

As soon as the carriage came into view he was ready, lean muscles bunching in anticipation. The driver was anxious, his thin frame shifting in a seat that was too big for him. Chat narrowed his focus in on the window, lips twitching up into a half smile. He counted the heartbeats until it was in line with his hiding spot among the bushes, and as soon as he could see a shadow of the figure inside he leaped.

There was a moment of doubt, a hint of worry that he'd miscalculated, and then his hands gripped the roof of the carriage and his body swung in, landing silently in the empty seat.

The noblewoman sitting opposite of him stared with round eyes, one hand landing delicately on her chest. Chat leaned forward quickly to press his hand over her mouth.

"Don't scream," he whispered. Not that screaming would do her any good. He'd found in the past the drivers cared very little for those they transported when their own lives were on the line. But it was best he cut her off before she began, or she'd never stop. There was one noblewoman the summer before who'd been so panicked she'd actually started sobbing into his shoulder.

Her face had gone impossibly pale. She didn't look much older than he was, and he almost felt a twinge of sympathy. It disappeared the moment his eyes dropped to her throat. A bloodred ruby glimmered even in the darkness, hanging off a single delicate chain.

Chat met the woman's eyes again. "I'm going to take your necklace," he explained softly. "And then I'm going to leave. If you do nothing to stop me, I promise you won't be harmed. Do you understand?"

He could feel her trembling. After a few beats of silence, she nodded.

Chat used his free hand to grasp the necklace, jerking it once and snapping the chain. He tucked it away safely in his belt, and when he glanced up again he saw the noblewoman had started to cry. He didn't blame her. Many bandits in these parts weren't nearly as kind. They would never leave her alive.

He wasn't one of them.

He drew away from her and immediately swung back out the window, knees softening to brace himself against the fall. Dust stirred up as he landed (always on his feet), green eyes darting up to make sure the carriage continued on its way.

The people back in Nottingham called him a ghost, a demon. Some of them had spotted him with his tail and ears. He's not human, they would whisper, and he would hide a grin as they passed him. They were right, in a way.

He'd been stealing from carriages like this since last spring. He only had two rules. No peasants, and no children. As a result he'd earned himself a reputation back in Nottingham that was neither good nor bad - he was dangerous, wicked, certainly not to be trusted. But he also didn't take more than what people could afford to lose.

The carriage disappeared around a bend, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. One less thing to worry about that night.

Chat heard the whiz of the yoyo before he saw it, and by that time he'd already flattened himself to the ground. It struck a nearby tree, splintering the bark. He was on his feet in a second, staff expanding in preparation.

She dissolved from the trees, yoyo snapping back into her palm. Chat grinned, his staff held in front of him defensively.

"My lady! What a surprise. Don't tell me you came all this way just for me."

Ladybug took a warning step forward, swinging her yoyo in a circle so quickly it blurred. "Return what you stole, Chat."

His grin widened even as his muscles tensed. "Do I ever?"

He was ready when the yoyo shot out, meeting it easily with his staff. He didn't give her time to make a second attack, digging the end of the staff into the soft dirt and vaulting himself into an overhead branch. Ladybug glared up at him. "This needs to stop, Chat. These nobles don't deserve to be preyed on like this."

Chat raised an eyebrow. "Are you jealous, my lady? I promise none of them are prettier than you."

He just barely dodged the yoyo in time as it shot through the branches, snapping a few. It wrapped around a larger one just above his head, and this time he wasn't fast enough to avoid her as she flew up to join him, easily knocking him from his perch. He twisted in the air just in time to land on his feet, though his knees ached in protest at the unexpected jolt.

"I'm getting tired of these games," he grunted, scrambling to recover before she attacked again. "If you want alone time with me, you need only ask."

It had taken him about ten seconds during their first fight to realize that his comments irked her, and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed the way her cheeks had flushed the first few times. Now she always seemed ready, but he was still always poking at her, hoping for a reaction.

"You'll have plenty of alone time in the jailhouse," she retorted quickly, yoyo striking out and managing to hit his shin. He jerked back with a hiss of pain, glancing up at her and clucking his tongue.

"I'm afraid this relationship is moving just a bit too quickly for me." He danced a few more steps away from the tree and gave her a small bow. "Until we meet again, my lady."

"Chat!"

By the time her feet hit the road, he was gone.

.

"I don't want the waist to be too tight. I need to breathe, after all, especially if I'll be dancing."

Adrien obediently loosened his measurement of Lady Alya's waist as she chattered on, her eyes wide and admiring of the fabric sample he'd given her. Her father, Lord Cesaire, had ordered only the best for his daughter. Adrien's own father had consequently wasted no expense, finding a stunningly dyed fabric that mimicked the colors of the autumn leaves. The royal tailor had been called away only a few days after the purchase, and he'd left with a warning that Adrien's work on the dresses must have no complaints or there would be consequences.

Adrien wasn't worried. Lord Cesaire, though perhaps a bit over indulgent when it came to his daughter, was a fair man. For as much as he wanted to escape Nottingham, he liked the lord.

"Did you find fabric for Marinette's dress yet?"

Adrien's eyes darted toward where Maid Marinette stood in the corner of the small room, the edges of the candlelight just barely brushing over her. He'd almost forgotten she was there.

"We did. My father thought blue would complement the lady's eyes." Adrien paused from his work on Alya to gesture toward a table on the other side of the room. "You may look at it, Maid Marinette. We'd like your approval."

Marinette moved quickly and quietly, shooting a quick smile at Alya. Adrien didn't know much about Marinette and her family. She was painfully shy and quiet, but Alya seemed to adore her, and the two were rarely found apart.

"The May Day celebration is next week. Are you sure it will be ready in time?" Alya frowned in concern.

Adrien flashed her a quick smile. "I give you my word. You'll both look absolutely lovely for the celebrations."

Marinette's fingers drifted over the fabric lightly. "It's lovely," she murmured, barely loud enough for them to hear.

Alya beamed gratefully at Adrien. "And what will _you_ be wearing to the celebrations?"

Adrien grinned back. "Does it matter? I doubt either of you will be concerned with me when you see how many eligible nobles will be asking for a dance."

Alya dismissed him with a wave of her hand and for some reason Marinette blushed bright scarlet. Adrien hesitated to call the two of them his friends - Marinette barely spoke to him, and Alya was far too highly ranked for such a friendship to be deemed appropriate in any society - but they were the closest he had, and he enjoyed moments like this, without his father, when he could relax and simply talk with them without having to worry about consequences.

He hated to admit it, but he would miss them when he left.

.

"You've been fighting with Lady Luck again."

Chat Noir bristled slightly as he watched Friar Peter light candles from the safety of the darkness, leaning against the wall of the church with his arms crossed. He frowned at the Friar's words. "She's the one that fights with me."

The Friar glanced at him, eyebrows raised. Even though Chat was a good head taller than the elderly man, Friar Peter somehow always managed to make him feel impossibly small and naive. "Perhaps she fights with you because she knows how the Miraculous is supposed to be used."

Chat avoided the older man's vivid amber gaze, instead diverting his attention to the empty pews of the church. That was how the two of them had met. In the wake of his mother's disappearance, Adrien had come to the church almost every day, praying for answers. The Friar had been a comfort during a time when his father was unreachable and no one seemed to understand. A month after they'd met, he'd given Adrien the Miraculous. Even now, after almost a year of Chat abusing its power, Friar Peter didn't seem to regret it.

"You know who she is, don't you?" Chat's arms crossed more tightly over his chest. "Who she really is."

They'd had this conversation before. They would probably have it many times again.

"You wouldn't want to know, Adrien." Even when he was in his Miraculous form, the Friar called him by his real name. "It would change everything too quickly, too soon."

Chat finally pushed off the wall, heaving a sigh and dropping some coins into the donation box. Friar Peter glanced at him suspiciously, and Chat lifted his chin slightly. "Earned those myself."

As he made his way toward the door, the Friar spoke up again. "Something is coming, Chat. I can sense it."

Chat's stomach twisted at the words. He knew what Friar Peter meant, even if he didn't say it. Whatever was coming, he expected Chat to fight. He expected him to protect Nottingham, like Ladybug did.

He wasn't Ladybug. He never would be.

"What is it?" Chat didn't turn around, simply pausing in the doorway.

"I'm not sure." The Friar's voice was unreadable. "But whatever it is, I believe it will bring Nottingham to its knees."


	2. Chapter

Author's Note: Thank you guys so, so much for your lovely feedback. It gives me so much motivation to keep writing, and I'm so thankful for all of your support for my restarting this story. I know the first chapter was a bit slow, but things will pick up a bit in this one! In the next few chapters I'll also be introducing a few more characters, so I'm really excited to kick this story into motion! I hope you all enjoy!

Chat was barely three steps from the church when he felt a familiar cord swing about his ankles. His arms flew out, windmilling in an attempt to keep his balance, before he crashed into the ground with a muffled grunt.

"My lady," he managed to groan, spitting out some dirt.

The cord tugged and his instincts sprung into action. He extended his staff and dug it into the space between his ankles, using it to give himself enough space to wiggle himself free. As soon as his feet touched the ground he scrambled back a few steps, slightly disoriented. His eyes landed on her familiar figure standing a few paces away, yoyo swinging.

"I haven't taken anything," he snapped, surprised at his own irritation. He would admit it wasn't exactly gallant to go around stealing from dainty noblewomen, but to rob a church? Did she truly believe him to be the most despicable being on the planet?

"I know." She took a step forward and he stumbled back again, careful to put distance between himself and the church. Friar Peter may have suddenly seemed to go deaf, but that didn't mean he would be able to turn his back on a fight that crashed through his very window. "You never do. Not from here."

Chat's stomach twisted uneasily. "You've been following me?"

Her expression was difficult to read, but as she neared him the whirling spin of her yoyo slowed to a stop. She crossed her arms over her chest and regarded Chat through narrowed eyes. "You're not the only one who likes to visit the church."

When Chat had first encountered Ladybug, he'd asked Friar Peter if he'd given her the Miraculous the same way he'd given it to Chat. Friar Peter had been vague - she'd earned the Miraculous somehow, but she didn't know that it came from him. So why would she be visiting him? Chat deduced that she must visit the church as a citizen of Nottingham. It wasn't much to go on, but he felt one step closer to figuring out who she was and - hopefully - avoiding her entirely until he finally had enough money to escape Nottingham for good.

Chat's shoulders hunched and he frowned. "If you know I haven't taken anything, why are you here?"

She tilted her head. "Why don't you rob the church?"

"I asked first," he countered, surprised by the edge in his voice. Normally he was nothing but flattery and teasing with her, but tonight she continued to poke at a sore nerve.

"It doesn't matter if you haven't taken anything yet." She glanced back over her shoulder briefly, toward where the dim candlelight of Nottingham's open windows could just barely be seen through the trees. "You will. You always do. You abuse your power and take advantage of those who can't defend themselves against you. Because of that, you're always a threat to Nottingham, and I will always hunt you down."

"So why didn't you do anything just now? You had the element of surprise."

Her bright blue eyes darted toward the church, so old and worn down that it almost looked as if it were crumbling down. "Not here." A pause, and her gaze fixated on him again. "Your turn."

Chat was tempted to slip away before giving an answer. She'd exposed him quickly and contritely, and his pride was still stinging from it.

Instead he stepped closer to her than he'd ever stood before, so that he almost towered over her. The proximity made his breath hitch even through his anger, but she didn't seem to notice. "What kind of wretched, soulless person would rob a church?"

She held her ground, blue clashing with green. "A person I was hoping you're not. But one can never be sure when it comes to you, Chat."

It was the final blow he would allow her to deliver that night. He stepped away swiftly and extended his staff, vaulting himself through the trees and melting into the darkness. She didn't try to go after him. She didn't even call his name.

.

Most days Adrien felt suffocated by the small work room and an overabundance of fabric. He hated the way his father's eyes drilled into his back, waiting for him to make a mistake. Though visitors often commented that the tailor's workplace felt cozy with the glow of a dozen candles candles and the twinkle of random trinkets scattered about, Adrien had always viewed it more like a well-lit cage.

Without his father, though, he felt more at ease. He welcomed the distraction of Alya and Marinette's dresses, trying hard not to think too much about the previous night and the trouble Friar Peter had sensed.

He couldn't fight. He wouldn't fight. If he was ever going to escape Nottingham and his father, he had to avoid getting tangled up in any kind of mess like the one the Friar had promised.

A small, timid cough startled him out of his thoughts, and he almost jabbed himself with the needle. Glancing over his shoulder, Adrien was surprised to see Marinette lingering in the doorway, twisting her hands nervously. He leaped to his feet and bowed politely, the blue fabric of her gown still clutched in one hand.

"Maid Marinette, what an unexpected pleasure. Have you come to check on your dress? It's not quite finished yet."

Marinette glanced over her shoulder briefly before stepping further into the room and shutting the door behind her. Adrien frowned as she approached, her face pale and expression uncertain.

"I'm not here about my dress," she said softly, though he didn't miss the way her eyes darted curiously toward the fabric he held in his hand. "I need to talk to you about Alya's."

He felt a small spark of panic. "Did she not like the fabric? Or the design? She sounded happy when - "

"It's not that." Marinette startled him by cutting him off and waving her hand dismissively. She barely spoke at all when he was around, and she'd certainly never spoken over him before, despite the fact that her station allowed her to do so without consequence. "Alya adores the fabric, and I'm sure you'll do great work. You always do." She paused, flushed for some reason, and then continued more haltingly. "I mean - that is, w-we - she has come to expect your best, and you've never done poorly in the past."

Adrien nodded, somewhat baffled by Marinette's flustered appearance. "So then… why are you here?"

She went back to twisting her hands, avoiding his gaze. "It's Lord Cesaire, I suppose. He's been a horrendous mood lately, snapping at everyone, behaving completely out of character. I don't know what's wrong with him."

"You think he won't like the dress?"

"I think he'll take any opportunity he can to yell at someone, and I - that is, I know that Alya would hate for that person to be you. Her dress has to be absolutely perfect." Her eyes darted toward the fabric in his hand again and he could practically see the disappointment in her gaze. "Even if that means sacrificing mine."

He scoffed. "I'm not going to leave you without a dress."

Her eyes met his for the briefest of moments before nervously darting away again. "Make it simple, then. Easy, clean cuts. I don't need anything fancy. Alya does."

Adrien frowned but nodded his head in agreement, if only because Marinette seemed to get more uncomfortable and red each second. Marinette gave him an abrupt, somewhat clumsy curtsy and turned on her heel so fast he felt her skirts fly out to brush against his ankles.

"Thank you," he called out, but she'd already darted out of the room and shut the door hurriedly behind her.

.

Chat wasn't sure where he was going that night. He only knew that he had to get out and think. On nights like these he would usually go to the church, but Friar Peter's warning was still fresh in his mind. Sometimes he would take to the abandoned streets of the town, distracting himself with the thrill of hiding himself in the shadows and glancing through candlelit windows.

That night, though, he instead found himself wandering through the woods. He knew Ladybug could easily find him, but a part of him wanted her to find him. He wanted to argue with her, to fight. He wanted to tower over her again and defy her and all the words she'd shot at him the night before.

A small part of him, distant and buried deep, wanted to lean in just a bit closer than he had before, just to see what had happened.

Suddenly, the ground gave way beneath him. Startled, Chat scrambled for his staff but grabbed it too late, losing his balance and tumbling in a pit that had been hidden by a pile of leaves. It was a hunter's trap, one he should have recognized.

The sound of hooves echoed against the trees. Chat panicked, leaping to his feet only to feel something heavy and tangled be tossed over him. He dropped back to his knees, claws trying to slash through the net rope. When they couldn't tear through, he closed his fist, ready to use his last resort -

"I wouldn't, if I were you."

Chat's eyes darted up, and what he saw made his heart sink. At least six guards stood at the edge of the pit, arrows aimed at him. At the center of them, mounted on a pale colored horse, was Lord Cesaire. It was he who had spoken.

Chat lowered his hand and went still. "What do you want from me? I've done you no harm."

Lord Cesaire's face wore a stormy expression that was completely unlike his usual proud but relenting countenance. Chat remembered Marinette's warning. When he spoke, his voice was monotonous and unfamiliar. "You do this entire town harm, Chat Noir. You and Ladybug both threaten Nottingham with your dark magic and witchcraft."

"Witchcraft?" Chat snapped, though he felt panic bubbling up inside of him. He knew the punishment for such a crime. "I've bewitched no one in this town. Neither has she."

"You both inspire fear and chaos, and I'll stand for it no longer. You are enemies of Nottingham and will be punished accordingly." Lord Cesaire expression was dark and resolute.

"Punished?" Chat tried to sound defiant, but his legs felt weak.

"Tomorrow at dawn, Chat Noir, you will be hanged."


End file.
